


A Scion of Kings

by Toshimasa



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crack, Gen, Halls of Mandos, Headcanon, Support Groups, Who is Gil-Galad?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 04:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4905124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshimasa/pseuds/Toshimasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has one or more theories about Gil-Galads identity and parentage, but nobody knows for sure. Not even his predecessors. </p>
<p>Crack stories are a fun way to present your headcanon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Scion of Kings

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my personal theory about Gil-Galad, king out of nowhere, presented in a decidedly crackish manner. I do not know everything Tolkien has written on the subject, so I don’t know if it is disprovable. As far as I know, the take that Urloth (CollyWobbleKiwi) in “Little Boy Lost and Crying” has is not disprovable either, and I like that idea too. I just like this one the most because I came up with it myself, even if it was inspired by ncfans “Like Stars”. There is probably someone else who had the same idea, but I wouldn’t know about them. This little fic is just a way to present my theory, the depiction of the Halls of Mandos do not even fit my actual headcanon for them. Support Groups aren’t exactly a new idea either…  
> Also, English is not my mother tongue. Not sure if it shows. 
> 
> Quenya names and nicknames:  
> Artanis = Galadriel  
> Tyelperinquar/Tyelpe = Celebrimbor  
> Findekano/Finno = Fingon  
> Russandol = Maedhros

It was just another day some decades into the Second Age. The halls of Mandos were full as ever, but after the War of Wrath, the inhabitants (or prisoners, as some would say) had aquired some measure of peace that hadn’t been there before. Most of Vaires tapestries were open for all of them to watch and after the fall of Morgoth, a lot of worry had ceased.

In a corner somewhere near the more recent tapestries (which was just somewhere indefinite, space was a very relative concept in the halls of Mandos) six figures gathered. They sat in a circle of spontaneously materializing chairs, facing each other. Appearing in the shape they had worn in life they were able to communicate in a way familiar to them, yet in one that allowed a certain distance and subtlety. One of them smiled at the others cheerfully but somewhat apologetically, and said: “Today’s meeting of the Ex High-Kings of the Noldor Society is opened. How is everyone?”

Of course it had been Fingons idea. Finwe wasn’t nearly cynical enough to come up with a way to ‘celebrate’ the shocking death-rate of his successors. Fingon however had been a soldier long enough to develop a very dark sense of humour, even though he never lost his charm over it. The difficult part had been to convince Feanor and Maedhros to join, especially since Fingolfin and Turgon had liked the idea. But Finwe had liked it too, and Feanor could never say ‘no’ to his father. So they met every week and talked, about their past lifes (which had been quite an explosive field of mines in the beginning) and about the things they’ve seen on the tapestries. Maedhros, the newest member of the group, had been able to provide a lot of insight on the political situation in Middle Earth, once he had warmed up to the concept of a support group for Ex-Kings, and that he qualified for it.

“I’m quite all right, thank you” Finwe answered to Fingons greeting, also carefully cheerful. Keeping the awkward truce between his sons was hard enough, not to discourage them from these meetings was a walk on a thin thread.

Maedhros just shrugged. He still rarely talked. After his suicide, he had planned to ignore Mandos’ call and pass on to the everlasting dark or become a wraith, but Mandos must have forseen this (or someone had cued him, the Lord of the Halls was even worse at understanding elven emotions than the other Valar) and had Feanor call out to his son, who hadn’t been able ignore that, especially with the worry and desperation so clear in his fathers voice. It would take him a long time to heal. Even here and without a body he appeared heavily scarred and one-handed.

“Same as ever” mumbled Feanor, his thoughts clearly elsewhere, probably with Maglor. He rarely talked about it, but everyone knew he was very concerned with his last living son’s wellbeing.

“I miss my family, but other than that I’m doing well”, said Turgon, also shrugging. Elenwe and Argon had been reborn, and Maeglin and Aredhel avoided him. His (elven) descendants hadn’t died so far, and he was happy and proud about that. Still he was lonely, for the warriors of Gondolin who were still here kept their distance. Fingon made a mental note to spend more time with his brother.

“I’m fine I suppose. Still dead” Fingolfin didn’t like that question very much.

“All right. Does anyone have something to discuss today?” Fingon always moderated the meetings. Nobody else would and he felt quite comfortable in the role.

“Yes I have something,” said Fingolfin, sounding slightly annoyed. “Who is that Gil-Galad guy? He has been king for a while now, but shouldn’t that be Elrond? Or Tyelperinquar?”

Finwe and Feanor looked a bit confused. Up until now, they had just accepted that their successor was someone named Gil-Galad.

“He became king after Turgons death, with the claim that the title belonged to the eldest male descendant of Finwe. That was me, but I was out of the question,” explained Maedhros. “And Tyelpe would rather eat diamonds than take that title. Isn’t he Orodreths son?”

“I thought so too,” Fingolfin replied. “But I ran into Finduilas yesterday and she said she would certainly know it if she had had a brother.”

“Do you mean to tell me that my great-grandsons crown has been ursuped by an imposter?” Turgon was clearly not happy with that development.

“Elrond wasn’t even born when that guy became king,” Feanor said in a bored tone. “And Tyelpe, Artanis and Elrond clearly respect his claim. I don’t think he is an imposter.”

“I heard he is Findekanos son”, remarked Finwe slightly worried.

“He is not!” Fingon cried. “I would certainly know if I had a son! For that matter, I would certainly know if I had _married_.” He gave a heavy sigh. “I have never heard of that guy in life, but here in the halls I heard someone say that he is a descendant of Feanor. That would explain why he seems to have conflicting origin stories. He would not want that known.”

Feanor ‘tsk’-ed. Maedhros raised an eyebrow. “I do not know of any other nephew than Tyelpe. And I don’t believe any of my brothers would have hidden a child from me.”

“No, you would have been on babysitter-duty once again, just like you were with Tyelpe and all your younger brothers,” mumbled Feanor, barely suppressing a grin.

“Why don’t we just check the tapestries?” suggested Finwe. That seemed a better option than speculation, so they did just that.

After a while spent searching the walls of recent history, it became clear that the tapestries (at least the ones they were allowed to see) held no answer to the question. Gil-Galad just appeared out of nowhere.

“Well, that’s that,” Fingon sighed. “As far as we know, he could be Idril disguised as a male. Or one of Diors twins raised to believe himself to be a Noldo-prince rather than a Sindar.”

“Idril is over there,” retorted Turgon, pointing to a tapestry on the opposite wall, showing Idril and Tuor landing in Valinor after a long journey across the oceans of the world.

Everyone looked at Maedhros expectantly. He hesitated.

“I guess it is a possibility. I did not find the twins, and if I had, I would have tried to arrange for them to be reunited with their sister. Or I might have let Maglor keep them. But maybe someone else found them, I cannot say.”

Fingon seemed a little confused that the idea he had offered in jest was earnestly taken into consideration. But he chose to say nothing about it.

“Who else do you think could it be?” Fingolfin wanted to know.

“Well, it is not like we will not learn some day. We have time to wait. And if Gil-Galad is a deceiver, there is nothing we can do about it. We are quite dead after all,” Maedhros pointed out.

Turgon sighed unhappily. “I’m afraid my cousin is right. We have run out of ways to find out from here. We might as well wait.”

 

~~~~

 

A long Age later, Fingon opened another meeting of the Ex High-Kings of the Noldor Society.

“Today’s meeting is opened, and the Second Age has come to a close. Has anyone anything to say before we’re going to invite that Gil-Galad guy over?”

“No need to trouble yourself, Finno. I’m already here. Is this a party for me? Aw, you shouldn’t have!”

Fingon turned to face the speaker and his eyes grew wide.

“Aunt Lalwen!”

“Weren’t you with your mother?” Finwe sounded alarmed.

“No, she went with me,” Fingolfin said slowly, staring at his sister, “and she was a great help at my court and even with my troops. I would have gladly made her my heir, or one of them, if it had been possible. But I had no idea where she ended up after that.”

“Well, she was a great asset to my court as well”, said Fingon. “And I left her in charge in Hithlum when I rode into the Fifth Battle. But I could not say what happened to her.”

Finwe stared at them gobsmacked. “You mean to tell me that my little girl crossed the ice-desert with you and became a court advisor and soldier? My little laughing maiden?”

“Well, apparently she also dressed up as a male and became king after her nephews were all dead,” observed Feanor dryly.

“Not to mention that she managed to rule through an entire Age, something none of us has accomplished,” Maedhros pointed out. “Congratulations, aunt.”

“Thank you Russandol,” Lalwen grinned. “It would have been a good time if not for that (she used a very inappropriate term) Sauron. And then the little (another inappropriate term) burned me to a crisp. I’m reasonably sure that Elrond could win that battle though. I would have gladly given the crown to him if he had wanted it. But since he didn’t, it was either me or Artanis, and she would never have posed as a male.”

“How is Elrond?” Maedhros asked, cutting of Turgon before he could ask.

“Oh, that’s right, Maglor and you raised him. Well, he married Artanis’ daughter after the first war against Sauron, and they had twin boys. If he doesn’t show up soon, he should be all right, other than being left to pick up mine and Elendils pieces. I was rather happy he got over his crush on me. As wonderful as he is, he was too young for my taste.”

“So he knew?” Fingolfin inquired.

“Yes, him, Cirdan, Artanis and Tyelpe. Speaking of which, how is Tyelpe?”

“He came here in a very bad condition, but he should be alright. He is with his father now,” Feanor told her.

Lalwen just nodded. Fingon hugged her. It was more of a symbolic gesture since they didn’t really have bodies and their appearance was just a representation of their presence. She returned it all the same. Then she noticed that while Turgon just shook his head, Fingolfin smiled at her and Maedhros and Feanor didn’t seem to care all that much, Finwe was still staring at her.

“Are you angry father?” she asked calmly, ready to stand up to her decision.

Finwe swallowed. “I guess I should be proud. It will take some getting used to tough. It is like I never really knew you.”

She smiled at him. “Well, a lot has happened and I changed.” Then she looked at Fingon, still appearing to hold her in a hug.

“So, when are you and Russandol getting married?”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the ending, I couldn’t resist. Decide for yourself if she is just trolling. Also, I probably screwed up the timeline with Elrond getting married while Gil-Galad was still around. I don’t know if that was the case or not. Miriel is not around because I didn't know how to work her in. She is probably in the Top-Secret section of Vaires place.


End file.
